Chapter 2
It's been about 10 minutes, we finally arrive at our destination. Daryl honks a few times as we drive up toward some metal gates. I am amazed to see the prison. The property is in great condition: the tall metal gates look secure. An African-American woman with long dreadlocks rushes toward the gates along with a young boy. The boy pulls a chain, causing the front gates to open. Daryl drives the SUV in and I quickly follow, seeing that biters are attracted toward us. The young boy lets the chain down, closing the gates. The black woman stands by, with a katana in her hand, ready to strike any biters if they attempt to walk in. Once the two large doors are closed and secured, the young boy and the black woman quickly head over to our direction, where we park the SUV and pickup truck. I pull the key out from the ignition, killing the engine, and grab my bag as I step out of the truck. Sticking the keys in my jean pockets, I close the driver's door as I examine the property in amazement.
"Wow…" I say in awe as I glance around the property.
"This is it…" Daryl says as he walks over to where I am, crossbow over his shoulder. "This is the prison."
"It's…it's amazing!" I say with a smile of amazement at him as I wear the strap of my backpack over my right shoulder.
"Glad you like it," Rick says as he walks up next to me on my right.
"Hey, dad," the young man from the front doors greets Rick as he walks toward us, gazing at me in wonder. "Who's this?"
"This is Michelle," Rick answers. "She helped me and Daryl after we were attacked by other survivors. She was also kind enough to share all the supplies she had with us."
I stare at the light skinned boy. His dark brown hair reaches the sides of his lightly freckled face. His blue eyes, same as Rick's, meet mine.
"I'm Carl," the boy says as he holds his hand out to me.
"It's a pleasure," I say shaking his hand, smiling warmly at him.
The slim built black woman with dreadlocks stands on Carl's right side, gazing at me with curiosity.
"And you are?" I ask as I give her the same warm smile.
"Michonne," she answers after a few seconds of studying me, then shakes my hand.
"A pleasure," I say with a smile.
"We'll need some help carrying this stuff inside into the cell blocks," Rick says to Michonne and Carl. "Take whatever you can and take it where the rest of the supplies are."
Daryl leaps on top of the flatbed of my truck and begins to hand Michonne one of the large boxes of supplies. I reach for one of the large ammunition bags, but I feel the sudden pain on my side again. I wince back in pain as I put my hand over where the wound is located.
"Oh no you don't," Rick says as he pulls me back away from the truck. "I'm takin' you to Hershel to get that wound checked out. You can't be liftin' heavy things like that."
"I think I'll be fine, Rick, really," I say, ignoring the pain.
"I can't let you risk hurtin' yourself more. You need to make sure the wound can properly heal. Follow me," he says as he carries one of the large ammunition bags over his left shoulder.
He begins to walk toward the entrance of one of the cell block areas. I follow after him with my backpack over my shoulder.
"We run on errands," Rick begins to say as we walk through some metal doors and down a corridor. "You might be sent on one in order to get more supplies that we need with someone from the group. You need to make sure your wound is healed properly so it doesn't burden you when you're out there."
We reach the inside of the cell blocks. I follow Rick up some metal stairs, our footsteps echoing a bit as we make our way up. I glance around and see some people are napping in the cells.
"Hershel?" Rick calls out as he approaches and enters one of the cells. "I've got someone new to the group who needs a wound to be checked out."
I wait just outside the cell, not wanting to just barge into someone else's space.
"Bring'em in," I hear the voice of an elderly man say inside.
Rick motions for me to walk in. I walk into the cell and see an elderly man with grey hair and a short grey beard stand from the bottom bunk of the bunk bed.
"So you're the new addition to the group," the elderly man says as he makes eye contact with me. "I'm Hershel."
"Michelle," I say as I shake his hand.
"Very nice to meet you, Michelle," Hershel says as he gives me a small smile. "Now, what is this wound Rick is talkin' about?"
"Ah, yes…" I say, almost forgetting why I'm here. "It's a stab wound. I was attacked by some hostile survivors last night in the town where Rick and Daryl found me."
"Come and lay down on the bed," Hershel instructs me as he takes a chair and sits on it beside the bed. "Let me take a look at it."
I take the backpack off and set it on the bed and open it.
"I have some medical supplies in case you need some," I say as I pull out a small kit from my bag.
I hand it to him and slowly begin to lay on my right side to expose the wound on the left. As Hershel opens the kit, I lift my black shirt up on my side and reveal the bandaged wound, which has bled through the cloth. Large, dark purple and blue bruises have formed all around my side. Hershel wipes his hands with some of the small disinfectant wipes inside the kit and reaches for the bandaged wound. I feel some sharp pain as he begins to peel the bloody medical tape off my skin. Hershel sees some blood drip out of the stitched up wound.
"Well, I see that ya did a pretty bad job at stitchin' the wound," Hershel says as he reaches for the sewing needle and thick thread.
I chuckle a bit at his remark.
"Will she be all right?" Rick asks as he studies the wound.
"She'll be perfectly fine," Hershel replies as he prepares the sewing needle with the thread. "I just need to remove the thread that's stitched on the wound now, disinfect the wound more, and then stitch it up again before I patch it up."
"You make it sound easier than it sounds," I say jokingly, flinching a bit from some pain as he begins to pull the thread out of my poorly stitched wound.
"I'll be helpin' the others organize some supplies," Rick says as he continues to examine Hershel and the wound. "Do you need anythin', Hershel?"
"I might need a bottle of tequila or something," I say before gritting my teeth as Hershel begins to pull out the thread more from my wound.
Hershel chuckles at my remark and Rick just smiles a bit.
"We'll be fine," Hershel reassures Rick.
Rick nods and looks over at me.
"Hang in there tight, Michelle," Rick says in a joking manner.
"No worries! I've been through worse…ouch!" I respond, squinting my eyes a bit.
Rick chuckles a bit to himself and walks out of the cell with the ammunition bag. Hershel finishes pulling the thread out of my wound and places a cloth underneath my side to stop the blood that's seeping out. I gaze at the wall in deep thought, trying to distract myself from the pain. My eyes stare at nothing as I am in deep thought.
"So how'd ya get into this mess?" Hershel asks, interrupting my thoughts.
"I was scouting the area around my safe house," I answer him after snapping out of my trance. "Then this group of goons showed up and attacked me…they didn't do it to just steal my things…they did it just because they wanted to. For fun," I recall Jason and the way he said those words to me, causing my jaw to clench.
"How many of them were there?"
"When they attacked me last night, 10…But I killed five of them off before they disappeared… The ones who got away were the ones who attacked Rick and Daryl today. They came back in search of me to finish what they started. I guess they saw Rick and Daryl as victims to warm up before getting to me."
"And you'd been by yourself? Taking these men on?"
"Yeah…it's not the first time I experienced something like that. I've got the bruises and scars to show it, sadly…But hey, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive, ya know?"
"We know that very well here," Hershel says as he begins to stitch my wound up. "I speak from experience," he says as he reveals his lost leg, which has been replaced with a support.
I flinch a bit, biting my lip.
"So what happened to you?" I ask.
"I was bitten by a walker in the leg. Rick had to react quickly, so he mutilated it…"
I look at him with a bit of surprise, to which he chuckles.
"It sounds bad, but it prevented me from turnin' into one of them…" He continues as he wipes some more blood off my wound. "Rick saved my life."
"Damn…that must have been hell for you, though," I say as I stare at him in awe.
"Oh, ya better believe it was," he nods with a bit of a laugh.
I smile at him and turn my gaze back at the floor.
"So ya helped Rick and Daryl out when they were attacked?" Hershel asks as he continues to carefully stitch my wound up.
"Yep. Killed the last five men of that group of hostiles…" I recall Jason once again, feeling anger boil deep inside of me.
"I thank ya for that," Hershel says, bringing me back from my thoughts. "Rick and Daryl are very important to our group…I don't know what we would do without them."
"No problem at all. It's what I do."
Hershel wipes the wound clean with some hydrogen peroxide, causing me to bite my lip. He then grabs some medical tape and sticks it over a thick piece of cloth over my newly stitched wound.
"There…now there should be no more bleedin'…at least not like before," Hershel says as he wipes his hands clean.
"I usually do a much better job at stitching, but I was pretty out of it last night," I say in defense with a chuckle.
"I'm sure," he says as he reaches for a small packet of pain killers in the medical kit. "Go get some water and take these two to ease the pain a bit."
"Gotcha," I say as I slowly sit myself up on the bed.
"You all done here?" Rick says as he walks into the cell, glancing over at me and Hershel.
"Yep. Michelle is all stitched up. Well this time," Hershel pokes fun at me.
I scoff with a smile at him.
"Alright, I'll lead you to your cell now, Michelle," Rick says as he motions for me to follow him.
"Thank you so much, Hershel," I say as I place my hand over his and give him a warm smile.
"Anytime, dear," He responds back with a smile. "Now go settle yourself down."
With that, I get up to my feet, ignoring the bit of pain from my side. I follow Rick down the pathway, past three cells to one that's right by the top of the stair case. We walk in and I see a bunk bed with a small white pillow and red blanket on it. There is a box filled with food, water bottles, and other supplies in the corner. I also spot one of my large bags with weapons and ammo on the top bunk of the bed. A small lantern sits on the floor next to it.
"This is really cozy," I say as I walk toward the bed. "I feel like I'm being spoiled a bit, though."
"You shared your supplies with us, so it's only fair you get a fair amount of it for yourself," Rick says. "It's also to show appreciation for helpin' me and Daryl back in that town."
I walk over to grab one of the water bottles as I rip open the packet of two pain killers. I place the pills in my mouth and take a sip of water, gulping down the pills. I then slowly sit down on the bottom bunk bed and stare at the floor.
"Thank you…" I finally say, breaking the brief silence. "Thank you for giving me a place to stay."
"Welcome to your new home," Rick says with a small smile. "My cell is just down there. If I'm there, just come by if you need anythin', or ask one of the others. I'll be outside workin' on the small farm."
"I can help if you…"
"No, stay here and rest," Rick interrupts me, holding his hand up. "After seeing all those bruises on your sides and that wound, you need to lay back for a while. Heal."
"I really can handle it…"
"I know you can…but it's about time you got some more rest after your encounter last night."
I gaze up at him in appreciation and don't bother arguing with him. He stares at me with those piercing, observant blue eyes.
"I'll rest up," I finally say, breaking the gaze.
Rick nods and walks out of the cell. I sigh and lay down on the bed, turning my head to face the wall farthest from me.
'He's very caring…' I think to myself. 'He reminds me of John…'
I feel my heart ache in sorrow and I close my eyes at the thought. To avoid tapping into any of my memories that may cause me more heartache, I decide to fall asleep.
"Mommy, can I have a cookie?" Elena asks as she jumps up and down, her dark curls bouncing on the top of her head.
"Mas galletas?" I ask in disbelief. "You've had two already and we just ate dinner!"
"I know, but I just love cookies!" she exclaims, dancing around the kitchen table in her red bunny slippers.
"Well, I can't refuse giving another one to you," I say as I reach for the blue cookie jar inside one of the top cabinets. "Because you got that sweet tooth from me!"
"Yup! We both love sweets!" Elena joyfully says as she claps her hands.
"Indeed we do," I say while handing her a cookie and keeping one for myself. "And no more after this. Remember you have to wake up early tomorrow so that your dad and I can take you out for your birthday. Sugar in your system won't let you fall asleep – don't be like me."
Elena giggles as she nibbles on the chocolate chip cookie.
"I can't wait for my birthday!" she says, jumping up and down as she chews, crumbs falling out of her mouth. "I'm going to be 4 years old!"
"That's crazy, isn't it? It's as if it was just yesterday when I held you in my arms and you couldn't eat all of the cookies," I tease as I mess with her hair, biting into my cookie.
"Come on, mom! Let's dance! Quiero bailar!" Elena says as she begins to shake her behind side to side, waving her arms all around.
"Oh, looks like the sugar is getting to us!" I exclaim as I mimic her moves, my long dark curls dancing on my shoulders.
Elena and I dance around as we begin to laugh and playfully tug at each other. As we were lost in laughter and dancing, the phone in the kitchen rings. I continue to hold Elena's hands for a bit longer as we laugh, and then make my way toward the cordless, silver phone connected to the wall.
"Hello?" I answer, still smiling at Elena who continues to dance and giggle.
"Michelle?" I hear a voice ask on the other line.
"Yes, who's speaking?" I ask as I smile over at Elena who continues to dance.
"This is Lieutenant Walkins…"
"Oh! How are you? Did John ask you to call me.."
"Michelle…" Lieutenant Walker interrupts me in a serious tone.
I stand there, staring at the porcelain tile floor. There's a moment of silence.
"John was shot…"
"Oh my God, is he all right?!" I whisper in panic, trying not to let Elena hear me.
Silence once again from the other line. I feel my heart pounding through my chest and my hands begin to tremble.
"John's dead."
I open my eyes and find myself staring at up at the white, stained wall across the room. Rubbing my eyes, I sit myself up on the bed, placing my feet on the floor. My gaze sticks to the concrete floor in deep thought.
'I need some fresh air,' I think as I sigh and stretch a bit.
I get up on my feet and make my way out of the cell. Glancing around, I head toward the steel stairs and head down. With every other step, I feel slight pain from my side. I reach the bottom of the stairs and slowly walk toward the exit of the cell block, my gaze at the floor as I rub one of my eyes.
"Up already?" I hear a voice ask in front of me.
I look up and see Rick walking in through the cell bock's entrance.
"How long was I out?" I ask as I rub my forehead.
"No more than an hour," he answers as he wipes dirt off his hands with a cloth. "You sure you're well rested?"
"I'm perfectly fine," I answer, feeling the bruising on my side as if on cue. "I've been able to do other things in worse condition. Trust me."
Rick studies me carefully and looks away while rubbing his beard a bit.
"I need some fresh air…" I say as I rub the back of my neck.
"Well, you're more than welcome to head outside. Follow me, then," he offers with a small smile as he motions for me to follow him.
We walk out of the cell block and head down the corridor, and reach outside. I follow Rick over to an area where a woman with short, grey hair looks to be filling a large container with water.
"Carol," Rick says to her as we approach. "This is Michelle, the new addition to the group."
"Ah, the one who saved you and Daryl earlier today," she teases Rick. "Well, I'm Carol. Nice to have you in the group."
"I'm glad to be a part of it," I respond with a warm smile.
"We're about to have a council meeting," Carol says, glancing at Rick. "I know you're not part of it anymore, but I think it'd be a nice opportunity to introduce Michelle."
"Are you all right with that?" Rick asks as he turns to me.
"Fine with me."
With that, Rick and Carol lead the way. I follow them through another entrance into the prison, down a corridor and into a large space. There are shelves filled with books and an area with a carpet. I see Daryl standing by a nearby table, cleaning his crossbow. Hershel is sitting on a nearby chair, talking to an Asian man with dark hair that is styled back. An African-American woman is standing nearby, gazing in thought at the wall. Hershel turns his attention toward us as they hear us approaching.
"Ah, just the person who we wanted," Hershel says as he gazes at me.
"Yeah, Michelle!" Daryl exclaims.
"What can I do for you?" I ask standing a few feet away from Hershel after smiling at Daryl.
"We'd like to introduce ya to the council," Hershel replies. "You've met the majority, but you still have a couple left."
"I'm Glen," the Asian man says with a wave.
"And I'm Sasha," the black woman says as she comes closer to the group.
"A pleasure to meet you all," I say with a nod.
"We'd like to thank ya for sharin' your large amount of supplies with us, and for helpin' Rick and Daryl out earlier today," Hershel explains.
"That's the big news for today, isn't it?" I say in a joking manner.
"We really appreciate the help," Carol adds.
"Really, it's no problem," I say as I scratch my neck. "I'm always more than happy to help others in need."
"That brings us to our next topic," Hershel says as he shifts himself a bit in the chair. "We'd like to know any skills ya have in order to figure out where ya can be of use here."
"Of course," I say while crossing my arms. "Before all this went down, I was in the military. I'm expert in many weapons and military tactics. In terms of medical care, I'm skilled enough," I say with a smile at Hershel. "And I have other skills for other needs."
"We definitely know who else is goin' on runs now," Daryl comments with a grin.
"I'm more than eager to help out with that."
"It's great to have someone from the military in the group," Glen says. "Those skills can definitely help us out."
I give them a nod of acceptance and glance around and wait for someone to ask. Everyone glances at one another to see if they want to add anything.
"That was really all we needed to know for now," Hershel says as he turns to me. "You're excused from this meeting; ya could be a great addition to the council, so take some time and consider joinin' to make vital contributions for the group."
"I'll consider it," I say with a nod as I stand up and begin to walk away, with Rick not too far behind me.
Everyone nods and I wave goodbye. Rick and I walk through the bookshelves, down the hallway and corridor, and reach outside.
"I figured you'd be in the council, too," I ask Rick as he walks alongside me on my right.
"I was…" he looks around and examines the metal fences that surround the area. "But I left."
"Why is that?"
"I need some time off, a break from all that stress…I also gave up my gun."
"That colt python?" I 'm as I see that he indeed doesn't have the holster nor the gun. "Why would give that beautiful gun up? You used it when you were in the town earlier, didn't you?"
Rick scoffs with a small smile.
"I only used it because I had to go out on that errand to help Daryl. Three of our other group members had gone on another errand, so I was left to aid Daryl."
"Understandable."
We stop some ten feet from what appears to be a small farm. There's a handmade canopy tent with a table and baskets filled with some fruits and vegetables in them, as well as some boxes. Just some feet away are the crops next to a small fenced space where some pigs are wandering about. I gaze at the small farm in awe.
"Who's the handy farmer who made all this happen?" I ask as I place my hands on my hips.
"Me," Rick answers as he walks toward the crops. "I've been under Hershel's teaching on farmin'…He used to own a farm. We resided there before it was overrun by walkers and had to leave…That's when we found this sanctuary," he gazes around.
"Out of all the places, a prison is the best safe haven…to think that it was a place where we didn't want to end up in before all this shit went down," I comment with a small laugh.
"I laugh at myself about that every once in a while," Rick crouches down to examine some crops. "I was a former police officer of the King County sheriff's deputy…It's ironic that I'd end up here for a refuge."
"I can see where you're coming from."
Rick continues to look through the crops and examines them, making sure they're growing well.
"I can help with some of this stuff," I offer as I walk a bit closer.
"Do you know how to take care of a farm?"
"No…but I can try," I place my hands on my hips and give me a determined gaze.
Rick gazes up at me and thinks for a moment. He finally nods.
"I'll show you some stuff," he motions for me to come closer.
I crouch beside him on his left and watch as he examines the crops.
"I planted these with Hershel," he explains. "If it wasn't for him, I'd be a lousy farmer."
"Farming can be a difficult thing," I say as I reach out and touch one of the crops. "But it can be a great way for you to think…almost relaxing."
"That's one of the reasons I took this job…I've been able to get my thoughts together…tryin' to forget things…"
"You and I both…" I follow his movements, watering the crops with a small, old purple sprinkler.
Rick listens to my response and stops to think about it. I notice and quickly try to turn to another subject to and avoid questioning.
"So what happened to those front gates?" I ask as I look up and point to where the large doors are. "I know a prison doesn't have those kinds of doors for its prisoners…"
"We were attacked not too long ago…" Rick answers as he takes note of me changing the topic on purpose. "We had some issues with a man who goes by 'the Governor'…he ran a small group called Woodbury in a small town…He's a psychopath who took some of our own as prisoners. Even caused the death of one of our friends who was with us in the initial main group…"
"I'm sorry to hear that…"
"Michonne and Daryl have some unfinished business with him and have gone out to track him…I'm afraid that the trail might have gone cold for them."
I continue to water the crops little by little, moving the soil around to make sure water seeps through to the roots of the crops.
"What about you…" Rick begins to say. "What's your story? What have you gone through with previous groups?"
"Well…the first group I was in was rather big…about twelve people," I answer, obviously noticing that Rick wants to know some things. "We were overrun by walkers when camping out and ended up separating. Those who survived, probably around seven or so, went off on their own…I don't know what happened to them. The second group was the one in which our own people tried to kill us…betrayed us to get our food, weapons, supplies…The third group I ended up saving from hostiles. As a sign of gratitude, they offered me a place in the group. There were four of them…I figured a smaller group would be better. But of course, I ended up being wrong. We were attacked by another group of hostiles while dealing with a large group of 'walkers' as you call'em here…We ended up separating in a small town, trying to get away from the walkers and the hostiles. And they either ran into some of those things and were eaten or they were gun down by the hostiles…I wish I could've saved'em…but it all happened so fast. It's one of the reasons why I didn't want to be in a group anymore. I befriended these people…came to care about them…and they all died…I just couldn't stand going through the same thing over and over again…so I stayed on my own, found the town where you and Daryl found me since then."
"Why exactly did you join our group?" Rick asks as he continues to dig through the soil.
"To help is one reason…and I just felt that I needed a change. I came to realize that if I stayed alone, I'd probably end up torturing myself. I want to help those in need – it's what I do. I also wanted to give myself another chance with a group…so I joined yours."
Rick stops messing around with the soil and takes a moment to gaze at me. I continue to move the soil around.
"Well, we're glad you did," he says with a voice of gratitude.
I stop digging through the soil and turn my gaze to him.
"I'm glad I did, too," I say with a small warm smile.